Warsong (Hunter-Killer #2)

Chapter 02 - In Absentia

Ryke peeled himself out of the Hunter-Killer cockpit, feeling tension unwind from his nerves as the neural load of piloting the war machine was lifted from him. Connected to the mech through the tight black mesh of the link skin that covered him from ankle to throat, he eased himself loose, limb by limb. The feeling of indestructibility was left behind in the armoured shell.

The front armour split open, mechanisms hissing as the thick plates retracted to let the light and noise of Stamm Basin's main hangar cascade down onto him.

The largest military base in the southern hemisphere, Stamm Basin was constructed in the base of a long dried out lake bed, dominating a huge portion of Brekka's eastern quarter. Ryke clambered out into the organised chaos, where massive equipment haulers rumbled between the gridiron arrangement of tramlines that threaded through the whole structure. Engines thundered and voices clamoured, the heat of welding torches and burning fuel turning the vast space into a veritable sauna.

He mounted the exit ladder and slid down to the hangar floor, where he found a familiar figure waiting for him. Ivy stood with a large data slate locked in the crook of her arm, checking over the readings of his Hunter-Killer. Her slim form was swamped by her grey Engineering Cadre overalls and her brown hair was swept back, held in place by a headband to keep it out of her face while working. She looked up, but the smile he'd expected wasn't there.

When they'd joined Brekka's armies they'd been friends, Ryke applying for the Hunter-Killer Corp, while Ivy took her formidable talents to the city's engineers. The war had made them more than friends – a lot more. Normally she was a powder-keg of irrepressible energy, but right now she had a thoroughly grim expression on her face.

"Corporal Shanklin." Ryke gave her a lazy salute after dismounting the ladder, hoping to quickly disperse whatever cloud was hanging over her. "Something up with my rig?"

"No, no, she's running at full capacity," Ivy replied glancing across the hangar distractedly. "All readings in the green."

"Then... do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

"What's wrong? Sure, I'll tell you what's wrong," she muttered, swiping a finger across the data slate and looking him in the eye. "Those northers just added about a million extra shifts for every wrench dragger in uniform."

Ryke winced. "Ah, you stuck with billeting them?"

"On top of everything else around here." She huffed, letting the slate hang in one hand. "Sorry, not your fault. It's just I'm already pulling doubles with all the rebuilding work, and now this?"

"I can imagine."

"What are they even doing here? Last time I checked we were all enjoying a little bit of peacetime."

"Well, they didn't pack for a holiday, that's for sure." Ryke signed, scratching idly at seam where his metal jaw met his skin.

Ivy snorted. "You can say that again. We barely have the space to pack them in. We've had to set up spillover hangars, repurpose repair bays – Riverlords, we've even had to move some of our mechs into storage inside mammoths. It's crazy."

"I'll find out," he told her. "There's a briefing at the Forge this afternoon – all officers required. I'm guessing that's when we'll get a meet and greet with the new faces and find out why they dragged themselves all this way."

She nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but a bleep from her data slate interrupted her and yanked her eyes down again. She scanned it for a moment.

"Drown me," she muttered.

"More good news?"

"I gotta go." Ivy sighed and glanced around quickly. Then she pressed up onto her tiptoes and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "I'll catch up with you later."